


Some Day I'm Gonna Marry You

by Nuinzilien



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ardor in August, Ardor in August 2017, Elves are NOT just Tall Pointy-Eared Men, M/M, background F/F, background M/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuinzilien/pseuds/Nuinzilien
Summary: The first of the Noldor elves to encounter Men was Finrod Felagund, who befriended the Men of Beor, learning their ways and language, and teaching them his own.  This is how the Ring of Finrod came to be an heirloom of Barahir's line.





	Some Day I'm Gonna Marry You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laSamtyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laSamtyr/gifts).



Manfred took a deep breath and screwed up the courage he'd been known for in his childhood. This was it. The day he would ask the love of his life to be his Lady. He knew exactly what he was going to say and exactly how she would respond and her eyes – so elven and exotic - would glow with joy, and he would be the luckiest man in Middle Earth. And he would do it all in the village center, so that everyone knew of his love for her and would share in their joy.

It was going to be perfect!

~~~

It was a disaster.

Manfred sat on his bed, staring at the ring he’d planned to present to his Lady. He’d spent so long trying to decide how best to prove the depth of his feeling for her, and the heirloom of his family seemed perfect. It was even elven made, so surely it would suit her. He’d been so certain she would accept.

He could still hear the laughter of the gathered crowd and see his lovely Mithiel’s discomfort as he’d screamed his intentions at her from across the courtyard.

He glanced up as he felt a weight settle on the bed beside him. “Mother. You heard?”

“I think the entire village heard, dear.”

“It seemed perfect when I rehearsed it in my head.” Manfred’s shoulders slumped. “I really thought she felt the same way I do.” He stared at the ring in his hand and frowned. “Mother? What did Mithiel’s brother mean by certain predilections running in our line?”

Winifred sighed. “Merely that you are not the first in the family to love an elf.”

“He was referring to Beren, who loved the Lady Luthien, right?”

She smiled. “Well, he certainly is the most well-known of your forebears to love an elf… but he was not the only one. Nor was he the first.”

Manfred blinked up at her. “He wasn’t? But the knowledge keepers say that our elven blood comes from Beren.”

His mother nodded. “And they are correct. You are descended from their union. But Beren was not the first of Beor’s line to love an elf.” She tapped at the ring in his hand.

The young man blinked up at her, puzzled. “The Ring of Barahir? I don’t understand.”

“I know, dear, but you will.” She settled in, smoothing her skirt. “The symbol on the ring, do you know what it is?”

He shrugged. “It’s some sort of elvish device.”

“True, it is. But this symbol, the two snakes meeting beneath the crown of golden flowers, represents the house of an elf lord across the seas. He was father to Finrod Cave-Master, who we call Nom.”

Manfred perked. “I started learning about him in lessons. He died protecting Beren from a wolf.”

“From a werewolf,” she corrected. “But before that, he himself was saved in battle by Beren’s father Barahir. Nom gave Barahir the ring as a sign of everlasting friendship, so they say.”

“So they say?” It took a moment for the confusion to clear from Manfred’s eyes. “Oh. So they SAY.” He puzzled. “But… how? Barahir was married to Emeldir. They had Beren…”

She nodded. “Indeed he was. It is said Emeldir and her husband were of like mind in many things. And she was unusually close to her handmaiden Ioleth. They were nigh inseparable, much as Barahir was to Nom.”

Manfred blinked at her. “But… wait, so… what? Emeldir and Ioleth… Barahir and Nom… But Barahir was married to Emeldir. They had Beren.”

Winifred smiled. “They did. It was a marriage of convenience, my son. He was a lord, he needed an heir. Her family needed an alliance and she was the only daughter. They made the best of the situation, as must we all.”

He sighed. “So Barahir loved Nom? And Nom gave him this ring? I thought he gave this as a thank you for saving him in battle? And a promise to protect Barahir’s line?

“An impressive gift for an act that happens hundreds of times in a battle, is it not?”

Manfred tilted his head. “I… suppose?”

His mother hummed and settled in for a story. “Let me tell you, my son, of love in a time of war…”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Barahir looked up when the elven messenger entered the war tent. "Nom..."

Finrod glanced up from his map. "Do we have word from Maedhros and his brothers?"

The messenger straightened. "Ai, my Lord. They plan to attack from the east and wish us to attack from the western flank." He reached out and pointed to the locations. "Tyelkormo's army and the Easterlings will come up from the south and we will crush the Dark Lord's forces between us."

"When is this to take place?"

"We are to be in position three weeks hence."

The elf lord turned to Barahir. "My elves can make that timing. Can your army be in position?"

"The timing is tight, but aye, we will be in place."

"Then I suggest we get moving."

~~~~

Finrod really should have known that anything involving his cousins would not work as planned. The promised Western and Southern armies were nowhere to be seen, and the forces of Angband seemed to never end.

He swung his sword to the left and stabbed to the right with his dagger, glancing around the field. His elves were holding their own. The men... were doing as well as could be expected. They had not encountered anything like what spilled from the depths of Morgoth's fortress, and were unprepared for balrogs and werewolves and vile filth.

"NOM!!!"

Finrod twisted around just in time to see a wooden shield knock a thrown spear from its path and splinter against the ground. A path that would have ended through his chest. He looked around with wide eyes.

Barahir met his gaze and nodded.

The elf lord nodded back and turned his attention to the balrog threatening his archers. He let out a harsh war cry and charged, leaving a path of devastation in his wake.

~~~ 

“Where is he?” Finrod demanded, storming into the quickly erected medical tent. “Where is Barahir, son of Bregor?”

One of the healers pointed a gore covered finger toward a curtained off area. “Please keep your voice down, my Lord,” he said in the imperious voice that all healers seemed to possess. “Anger is an ill omen in a sick room.”

The elf lord swallowed down his annoyance and headed for the curtained area, stopping only occasionally to have a quiet word with the wounded or listen to a report from his commanders. He pushed aside the curtain and peered inside.

Four of the cots were filled with the quietly resting injured. Barahir lay in one set apart from the others, in deference to his station. Finrod walked over to the young lord's bed and towered over it, arms crossed. He huffed, waiting for his friend to wake and acknowledge him.  


Barahir's eyes finally opened. He grunted. "I know that look. What did I do this time?"  


"That is what I would like to know. How did you end up being injured?"  


Barahir fidgeted.  


The elf lord sighed. "It was when you threw your shield to save me, aye?"  


The young man hemmed and hawwed for a moment. "Not exactly RIGHT then, but..."  


Finrod bristled, working himself back up into a fine anger. "Why in Elbereth's name would you do such a thing? You could have been killed."  


Barahir glared up at his friend and sometimes advisor. "And so would you have if I had not done it."  


"Possibly, but not as likely. I heal better than you do, boy. I would have survived it. YOU, on the other hand, need to keep yourself safe. For the sake of your kin, if for no other reason."  


Barahir's glare turned mutinous for a moment before he finally sighed and relented. "It was not something I thought about. I saw the spear coming at you and reacted. With all of the losses we have encountered during this war, I did not want to risk losing another friend. Even if you can survive more and heal better than I do, it does not mean you always will, Nom."  


Finrod sighed and knelt down to be face to face with him. "Foolish boy." He smiled. "You are barely 19 summers. I have watched you grow from a toddling child clinging to your mother's skirts into a strong, clever young leader. "I would like to see what kind of man you will grow into once you get a bit of experience under you. But that cannot happen if you do ridiculous things like throw your protection away trying to save someone who did not need to be saved."  


Barahir looked as if he wanted to object, but sighed and looked away. "You're my friend, Nom."  


The elf lord nodded. "And you are mine, Barahir. As your friend, I am asking you not to take such careless risk with your life."  


"But you do!" He yelled, wincing and flopping back when one of the healers shushed him. "But you did. You could have died just as dead as I would have been. And then how would I have married you?"  


Finrod’s eyes rolled at the reminder of Barahir’s childhood promise. "Nay. You have not been listening to me. I am much older and can take far more damage than you. Even if I were gravely injured, my body may have failed, but my soul would have gone to Mandos' halls and been reborn in time. We still do not know where the souls of Men go when their doom is upon them. Do not be in such a rush to find out." Finrod reached out to touch Barahir's uninjured shoulder. "Please do not do this again. I am an elf and can endure much, but do not make me endure this."  


Barahir sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm tired, Nom. My head hurts."  


The blond chuckled. "You sound like an old woman trying to get out of joining with her husband! Very well, Grandmother, I shall let you rest your feeble bones for now. But we will be finishing this discussion later."  


"I cannot hear you, rude one. I am asleep, like my healers told me." The young man cracked a smile and drifted off to sleep, guarded by his dearest friend.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Finrod chuckled and held Barahir up when the young man stumbled, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Come, my young friend! I think you have had enough enjoyment for the night. You have a big day in the morning."

The thoroughly drunken man blinked up at him. "I do?"

The other members of Barahir's stag group laughed and stumbled back to their homes, leaving the elf lord to see to his friend.

"I should think so, my friend. You are getting married in the morning!" Finrod shifted his hold, taking most of the man's weight as they wobbled on down the path to the home Bregor had built for his youngest son upon his coming of age. "You need rest if you are going to be at your best for your bride."

Barahir flailed his free arm. "That's right! I'm getting mar - mar - a bride in the morning! A bride I've never even seen!" He squinted at his blond friend. "Is it you? Are YOU going to be my bride, Nom? I don’t want a bride, but if it’s you, I could live with that! You're quite pretty. You'd make a lovely bride!"

Finrod's smile was wry. "I am afraid not, my friend. I am not the marrying type, as Amarie could tell you."

Barahir frowned. "Amie? Mary? Amrie. She is the Lady you fancied back home, right?"

"Aye, that is her. She was lovely and kind."

"But not your wife? Why not? Why did she stay behind?"

Finrod pushed the door to Barahir's room open and helped him stumble inside. "It was not meant to be. Her family did not approve of the match and would not allow her to tie her fate to mine.”

"Well that is just plain ridiculous. You're brilliant! And a prince, right? Did they want her to marry a king or something? Because evidently, if she had just come along and waited a bit, she could have! And then she’d have been Queen of Nar… Queen of… blast it, why do you elves have to use such long names for places?" His human friend huffed, offended on his behalf.

"Well, her family did think rather highly of themselves, but I suspect it may have been the strife between my Adar and my eldest Uncle Feanor. Not quite as bad as what was between Uncle Feanor and Uncle Fingolfin, but still not a situation many wished to involve themselves in."

Barahir flopped onto his bed and started trying to pull his boots off. "Sounds like a load of nonsense t'me. Not your fault. Sibling rivalry happens in pretty much every family. Look at mine!"

Finrod smiled. "Aye, perhaps it does now. But back when the beginnings of their enmity stirred, siblings were rare enough, much less rivalry between them.” He shrugged. "But it was what it was, and Amarie's family did not want her involved in it."

"Sorry to hear it, Nom. It doesn't seem fair. I bet you really loved her." He kicked off one boot and started working on the other.

"She was beautiful and sweet. To be perfectly honest, I cannot imagine her doing well over here, not with all the violence and fear. Now that I have been here, I realize it would have driven me mad with worry. Better that she stay over there, safe and comfortable. And married to Dathel the minstrel, if her parents have any say in the matter.” Finrod pulled the window shutters tight against the evening winds.

 

Barahir looked up. “You WANT her to marry someone else? I thought you loved her?”

“I did. I still do, I suppose.” He hunted down a bucket and placed it beside the young lord’s bed. “And that is exactly why. Not long after we crossed the ice, I knew in my heart that I would not return. Even if I did, I am not the same elf I was when I knew her. I love her enough to let her go. Let her find happiness with another.”

“What about you?”

“I am here seeing sights and talking to beings no one else in Eldamar could ever imagine.”

“That hardly seems like a fair deal, Nom. She gets to be a happy wife in a happy, safe life… and you get this.” Barahir gestured toward the suit of beat up armor in the corner, then settled under the blanket.

Finrod pulled a chair up beside Barahir’s bed and settled in it. He pulled his boots off and rested his feet on the edge of the young lord’s bed, content to watch over him for the night. “Aye, this life is difficult and full of pain and frustration…” He glanced over, eyes going soft for a brief moment at the snores. “But it has its joys.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Finrod Felegund, king of Nargothrond, stared down at the squirming bundle proudly presented to him. He chuckled. “Human babes are so active. What is he called?”

Barahir puffed. “We named him Beren, after Emeldir’s father.”

The elf lord nodded. “A fine name, and one destined for great things.”

His mother chuckled and reached for her son. “Perhaps. But for now, he is destined for a bath and then the nursery.” Once the baby was settled in her arms, she leaned down and pressed her cheek to Finrod’s. “It truly is good to see you again. It has been a very long two years since your last visit. You should not wait so long next time. Poor Barahir positively sulks while you are away! You should let your nephew rule in your stead and come live here. These days, I only have time to coddle ONE squalling babe.”

“Oi! Here now, don’t think just because your bore my heir it means you can stomp on my toes as well!” Barahir squawked.

Emeldir sniffed and straightened, casting a pointed look at Barahir. “Have a pleasant evening, my lords.” She carried their son out, quickly followed by her handmaiden.

Once their footsteps had disappeared down the corridor, Finrod smiled. “And to think, you did not want to marry her.”

Barahir nodded. “I know. She ended up being a very interesting lady. And a good wife.”

“I am pleased to hear it, my friend. I am sure the two of you will have many children together. Perhaps a daughter next time.”

“Hah!” The younger lord shook his head. “No thank you. Two females in my household are enough.” He walked over to a cabinet, returning with a drink in each hand. He handed one glass over and took a sip of his own. “To family.”

Finrod nodded and lifted his glass. “To new life.” He drank.

Barahir quickly finished off his drink. “To freedom.” He leaned in and kissed his best friend.

Finrod sat frozen in his chair, thoughts scattered. He was being kissed. By Barahir.

He took a moment to enjoy the experience. He and Amarie had never gone this far. Despite the many years he had professed his love for her, and she for him, it had remained a chaste love of the mind, their affections never moving beyond simple touches of hands. But this… warm, chapped lips tasting of wine and seasoned venison against his own... this was interesting!

It was not until he felt the startling, wet slide of an eager tongue pressing for entry that Finrod recalled himself. He pushed Barahir away, blinking up at him wide eyed and panting. “Are you drunk? How much wine have you had?”

Barahir smiled. “Just a glass with dinner and one just now.” He leaned in again.

“Barahir!” Finrod kept him at arm’s length. “What are you doing?”

“I should think that would be obvious.”

“Why?

Barahir’s smile turned wicked. “Because I have wanted to do this since I first knew what the rousing of my flesh meant. And now that I have…” He took advantage of his companion’s surprise and kissed him again. “I mean to do it again.” The next kiss landed on the elf’s finely sculpted jaw. “And again. And again. As many times as you’ll allow.” He kissed his way toward a graceful neck, where he nipped gently.

“Enough!” Finrod shoved him back and stood, using his height to force the young mortal into submission. “Stop this!”

Barahir relented, stepping away. “Why? We were both enjoying it.”

“Are you mad?” the elf lord demanded. “You have a son! You have a WIFE!”

“I know, my friend! And now that we have a son, we are both finally free to do as we please!”

Finrod frowned. “And it pleases you to be unfaithful to your wife?”

“Aye, it does.” He held up a hand to stall the elf’s objections. “With her blessing! Just as she has my blessing to follow her own heart.”

The elf lord shook his head. “I do not understand, Barahir. You are married.”

The man sighed. “A situation neither of us had a choice in. My brother Bregolas’ advisors and old Beren all wanted the line of Beor strengthened, so that was what would happen. It did not matter to them that the bride and groom already had their hearts taken by others.”

“By whom, Barahir?”

“Her handmaiden has been her constant companion since they were both young girls. Emeldir has loved her for nearly as long.” He smiled. “They share a sleeping room on the opposite end of the hall from mine.”

Finrod digested this for a long moment, his notions of marriage and fidelity battling with the reality of the young man’s situation. “And you?” He took a deep breath and centered himself. “You said both the bride AND the groom had hearts already taken. Who has your heart?”

Barahir huffed. “You can ask me that? After the many years we have known each other, how could you have any doubt who owns my heart?” He approached Finrod slowly, reaching out to touch the elf’s arm. “I told you when I was a boy that I would marry you some day. I told you the night before my marriage that if you were my bride I would not have minded. Marrying Emeldir has not changed that.”

“It does complicate things, however,” Finrod said quietly.

“Somewhat, aye, but we will make it work, my love.” 

The young lord’s smile fell as Finrod pushed away and, for the first time in his memory, ran away. “I will retire for the evening. I need to think.” 

He was nearly through the door when Barahir called his name. He stopped, his eyes fixed on the hall ahead. “Aye?”

 

“Nom… you once told me that you loved your Lady enough to let her go. That you hoped she found happiness with the minstrel her family favored. Is it so hard to believe that you deserve the same? With me?”

Finrod could not think of a good response to that, choosing instead to hurry down the hall to the safety of his chambers.

~~~

Hours later, the house had fallen silent, but Finrod was no closer to finding peace than when he’d started. This thing Barahir asked him to do, to assist him in committing adultery, it was unthinkable! Marrying someone who was already married to another! In the two thousand years of his life, he’d never heard of such a thing happening among elves. Admittedly, his grandfather Finwe had been wed more than once, but certainly not at the same time! It was greed! It was monstrous!

He stared into the dull gray coals of the sputtering fire. Was it truly the same situation? The ways of Elves were not the ways of Men, and many times they had shocked him with their cavalier views of what his people often considered sacred. To an elf, the sharing of bodies was only done between a wedded pair, and marriage was meant to form a bond between those who loved each other.

So when was it that Men had decided to use the marriage bed to gain power? And to force the unwilling into it… Finrod felt guilty for his part in Barahir and Emeldir’s fates. He should have objected to it, provided one or both of them with a means to escape. But there was little use playing what ifs now. The die was cast and their situation was as it was.

But did that mean he had the right to look past what he had been raised to believe? He had stayed true to the ways of his people, keeping his body chaste even in this strange, savage land of temptation. And there had been plenty of opportunities. Offers worded so sweetly and some worded with such wicked smiles that he’d been hard pressed to turn them away.

And yet none had been so tempting as warm chapped lips against his own, a hopeful smile, and sincere eyes. 

Somewhere in the house, a baby cried, pulling him from his reflections. It seemed young Beren was hungry. Finrod smiled. Babes cared nothing for the schedules of others no matter the race, it seemed.

After ten minutes of incessant and increasingly distressed howls, Finrod grew concerned and followed the sound through the halls. The crying had faded to fitful whimpers by the time he reached the nursery, joined now by soft humming. He peeked into the room, curious.

Emeldir sat in a chair, humming softly while the young heir nursed. Her ever present handmaiden – her lover? – stood in the shadows. 

The lady of the house looked up and smiled. “My Lord! Come in, please! I apologize if the crying has kept you from your rest.”

“No apologies necessary, Lady, I was already awake. And I am the eldest of three, so I remember quite well how it goes with a babe.”

Emeldir nodded. “As do I. Though this one has been particularly stubborn and resistant to a more reasonable schedule. He gets that stubbornness from his Sire. Hush you!” She glanced over at her handmaiden, who had not bothered to hide her snort. After a moment, she turned her attention back to the elf standing uncertainly near the door. “Has my husband spoken with you yet? He said he would.”

Finrod hesitated. “Aye. About that…”

The Lady shook her head. “I knew he’d botch it up.” She gestured to the chair nearby. “Please sit and talk with me.” She turned to her shadow. “Ioleth, please fetch milk from the nanny. My son seems quite ravenous tonight.”

Ioleth bowed, shot Finrod an intense look, then left.

Emeldir turned to him. “Now, did he at least explain the situation to you, my Lord? Or did he just… act?”

Finrod looked down for a moment. “He told me some things. That you and… that Ioleth is dear to you. And that you are free to do as you choose.”

“Only the basics, as always.” She shook her head and eased the babe to her other breast before settling again. “My Lord, the first time I met Barahir was on our wedding day, and I was very much against the marriage. I had never wanted to marry. My heart belonged to my beloved Ioleth. To my surprise – and my relief – my lord husband was in much the same situation. He loved another.”

“Relief?”

“Of course! As much as I resented the marriage being forced upon us, it would have been infinitely worse if there had been the risk of his heart pinning itself onto mine, when my heart had already been gifted to another. As it was, ours became a union in name and in mind. Perhaps we grew to love each other, in the way that friends do, or as shield brothers who had fought the same wars. In our case, we battled against expectations and both wanted the same thing.”

“Freedom.”

She nodded. “Freedom. Now of course, there were some things that needed to happen before we could truly be free. My husband needed an heir. We both celebrated long into the night when it was confirmed I carried his child. We moved to separate bedchambers the very next week.”

“And now you have honored your duties and produced an heir.” He reached, gently brushing a tuft of hair on the baby’s head. “What happens now? What if the advisors wish you to produce a second heir?”

She sighed. “We will cross that bridge if we come to it. But we have enough troubles without borrowing more before they have arisen. So now, we follow our hearts. Mine to Ioleth, and his… to you.”

“He kissed me, there in the sitting room.” Finrod confessed.

Emeldir grinned. “And? Did you kiss him back?”

“Not… exactly.” He fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt. “I pushed him away and reminded him that he was married and had a son.”

She tilted her head. “Is that such a terrible thing, his being wed to me?”

He blinked. “Of course it is. Elves wed but once, Lady, by the union of our bodies, and rarely can even death break the bond of love that is forged by that union.”

“I see.” She thought for a moment. “My lord… we are not elves.”

“I know this.”

She looked at him intently. “No, I don’t think you do. Not fully. We are not elves with rounded ears and shortened life spans. We are Men. Our ways are not your ways. The marriage between Barahir and I was political only. Its purpose was to strengthen and continue the line of Beor, which it has done. It was a contract. It was business.”

“And now this contract, which neither of us wanted but were honorbound to uphold, has been fulfilled. Why should Barahir be forbidden from entering into further negotiations for what he truly wants? WHO he truly wants?

“I suppose. But in the eyes of the world, your two peoples are allied as one. Would not having the lord commit adultery - with an elf, no less – put the stability of that alliance at risk?”

She sighed. “It is true that some aspects will need to be handled with discretion. But from what I have heard, you have cousins who have managed to carry on such a relationship with very few being the wiser. Surely a clever elf such as yourself, Nom the Wise, can manage such a thing easily. Barring that… well, as I said when you first arrived, you could cede your throne to someone of your choosing and move here. Barahir could always use an advisor with your skill in navigating a world of elves and dwarves and vile beasts.”

Finrod hummed. “That would take time to arrange.” She had a point, however. If Maitimo and Findekano could manage such a relationship while ruling different territories, surely he could work out how to do it better.

“Perhaps, but if worse comes to worse, you continue on as you are now, except much more hands-on.” She giggled at his blush.

He cleared his throat. “So just to be certain… you accept this? You give us your blessing to pursue this?”

Emeldir smiled and reached out her free hand, resting it on his wrist. “You have my blessing and my willingness to assist in any way I can. Even if it is only to explain the ridiculous turns our Barahir’s mind is prone to taking.”

Finrod nodded and stood. “You have given me much to think upon, Lady. I will bid you good evening and pleasant dreams.”

“Good night, Nom.”

~~~

The next day Barahir and Finrod, King of Nargothrond rode out together for a breath of air. Though they supposedly were going on the hunt, neither of them carried more than a sword and hunting knife.

They did not return until late in the evening. Both appeared rumpled, and it seemed Barahir’s hunt was the more successful of the two. He wore an expression of contented satisfaction, while his elven companion seemed to be very flustered and kept tugging the high collar of his coat even higher.

The stable boy couldn’t help but notice the new ring on his Lord’s finger, bearing the same sigil he’d seen embossed in the leather of the Elf Lord’s riding gear.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Winfred smiled. “And that, my son, is how our family earned the reputation for favoring elves.”

“How is it you know all of this, Mother? I’ve never heard any of it, so obviously Nom and Barahir were able to keep the extent of their relationship somewhat hidden.”

“The handmaiden Ioleth was my many times great aunt.” 

“Really? So I am actually descended from all three humans involved.”

There was a tap at the door for a maid peeked in. “Forgive the interruption, my Lady, young Master, but you have a visitor in the receiving room, Master Manfred.”

Winfred nodded. “Thank you, Isla. That will be all.”

Manfred stood and straightened himself out, smoothing his hair back. “I suppose that would be her family come to sort me out for embarrassing her.”

“I’ll have words to share with them if it is so, my son.”

“Mooother, I am a grown man, I do not need you to tell the neighbor boys off for picking on me!” Manfred huffed and headed down the hall.

He entered the receiving room and stopped. “Mithiel?”

Her smile was hesitant. “Hello, Manfred. Do you have a moment to talk?”

 

~~`~~`~~


End file.
